Things I Learned From The NYC Triathlon

WHO NEEDS SLEEp?
 
I am not normally one to complain about noise coming from my neighbors. I live in NYC, and with that comes close quarters, and noisy neighbors. Generally, I can tune out most music, sex groans, dog barking, etc, but the night before my Tri was an exception to my rule.
 
My neighbors next door have about 50 teenagers in their family, and all 50 teenagers apparently decided to have a ginormous party in their backyard. The bass started pounding into my living around 7pm and continued through the night. I tried with all my might to tune it out, shutting all of my windows, shutting my bedroom door and blasting the a/c, but alas, I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, with no sign of sleep to come due to the vibrating walls.
 
I started to freak out because I needed to get up at 3:30am to get my shit together and catch my ride into the city, so I became the asshole that called 311 to complain.
 
What the fuck do they really do over at 311? Do they just laugh at us behind our backs because we are actually dumb enough to dial the number and state our complaint? Do they do ANYTHING?

I believe the answer would be no, because I had to go upstairs and sleep in Lesty's bed due to the fact that the music NEVER CEASED and was, in fact, still going on when I left my apartment at 4am. In addition to the drunk teenagers hanging around the front stoop, checking me out with confusion as I left my house at such an odd hour.

Fuck it, I was almost ready to join them at that point.
 

YOU MAKE SOME FRIENDS, YOU LOSE SOME FRIENDS

As I was making the 1 mile trek from the transition area to the swim start, a woman decided to latch onto me. Not because I seemed like a friendly sort, or because I looked like I needed a friend. No, it would be because I was holding toilet paper. Toilet paper at a race is like having twinkies in your lunchbox on the playground. It makes you much more desirable to hang around.

We got to talking, and it was mostly about bodily functions--since after all, it WAS the tp that brought us together.

I learned that she had gotten her period that day, and that she would be swimming with a giant maxi pad stuffed in her bathing suit.

Nice.

My new friend and I, we decided to visit the porto potties together, since I was the holder of the toilet paper--however, I had less time before my wave start than she did, and started to panic that I would be late. As we stood on line, waiting for all of the other athletes to deposit their bodily waste into the most disgusting toilets that ever existed {and believe me, I've run 5 marathons, I've SEEN nasty porto potties}, I grew more and more anxious...while she just chattered away.

FInally, it was our turn to use the facilities. I threw her my roll of tp and took my chances...because I had already made my decision.

I was going to ditch her.

I was running out of time, my wave was about to start, I just needed to get my pee on and get the fuck out of there, and that I did. WIthout nary a goodbye nor a look back, I ran off the the swim start. New friend still chattering away in the porto pottie next to mine.




THE HUDSON IS ONLY SLIGHTLY LESS GROSS THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE

During all of our coaching sessions, we would be given little hints about race day. Such as, don't forget to take your helmet off when you do your run. Don't forget to put your helmet on before you get on your bike.

One of my favorite ones was, make sure to wipe your face after you get out of the Hudson. You will have a black goatee of oil slick if you don't.

EW.

I jumped into the water and held onto the flimsy rope that was going to save me from being carried off into the wild blue yonder, and looked around at the other red capped women surrounding me. They all looked equally petrified as we held onto that rope for dear life. They were taking their sweet ass time shooting the gun off, and we just bobbed up and down in the water, cursing {2 minute penalty} and trying not to piss our wetsuits out of fear {no penalty, but gross}.

Once I started swimming, I eased up on my anxiety a bit. There were no dead bodies that I could see, and nothing weird touched me. The current was fast, and a normal 1 hr swim took me 35 minutes. Sweet!

Even getting out of the water was a cinch, as there were some nice men at the end who helped pull us all out. And being that I was probably dead last, I didn't have to fight with the other girls to get out. I had all the men to myself!

And, I remembered to wipe my face. No black goatee for me!


 
AFTER A WHILE, AFRIN JUST DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE

I had sadly managed to pick up a small case of SARS, or perhaps just a head cold, mere days before the event. I discovered that Afrin 12 hr spray worked wonders for my runny nose, and during all of my training leading up to Sunday morning, I was snot free. Yay.

Yea, until I got on my bike during the actual race, and had to ride 25 miles to the Bronx and back. Suddenly, my nose was running like Niagra Falls.

So, I blew it on my shirt. Yea, I'm classy like that.



 
NOT A GOOD FAKER

The run, which is the latter part of the event , was more torturous than having one's fingernails torn out by the roots. I would imagine. I mean, you've swam a mile, you've biked 25 miles {and some of us only had 2 hrs sleep and a head cold} and now you have to get your legs to stop feeling like jelly, and run SIX MORE MILES.

I got to mile 2, and had to step off to the side and cry a little.

Once I got over my fear that I was going to collapse, I was able to talk myself out of quitting, and continue on like a brave little soldier. However, the pain and discomfort showed on my face every step of the way.

I knew my friends and family were going to be waiting for me near the finish line, and as I approached that area I started to pick up my stride and put on a happy face.

Later on, Beehive told me that I was running like a turtle when he saw me go by.

So much for faking it.



 
MY BOYFRIEND REALLY IS A GERMApHOBE

I was perplexed at the somewhat icy reception that I felt I was receiving from Beehive after finishing the race.
I realize that I was sweaty, wet, and probably stunk, but dude, suck it up and give me a hug for fucks sake!
I noticed throughout the course of the afternoon, however, that my normally affectionate boyfriend wasn't so much as even holding my hand as we walked down the street to get food from a nearby diner. I almost felt him flinch if I tried to touch him.

It did not dawn on me until we finally got back to my place, and I was about to get into the shower.

"Oh my God! You're not touching me because I was in the Hudson River!" I shrieked. "You're afraid you're going to catch something from me!!"

He shrugged, smiled, and nervously nodded.



 
I CAN RIDE A BIKE FOR 2 HRS STRAIGHT AND STILL HAVE DANG GOOD SEX AFTERWARDS

Yea. Once I cleaned up, that is.